Life's Little Ups and Downs
by denise1
Summary: Sam and Jack have a bit of an issue, 'icky het' warning.


Life's Little Ups and Downs

By

Denise

"What's wrong with him?" Daniel asked. Sam looked up from her lunch, following his gaze across the commissary, her eyes settling on Colonel O'Neill as he stalked into the room. The other personnel took one look at his face and hurried to get out of his way.

"What do you mean?" she asked, deliberately acting obtuse.

"What do I mean? Sam, he's been as grumpy as a bear with a sore paw all morning," Daniel said.

"I hadn't really noticed." She took a bit of her jello, her eyes skittering away from Daniel's.

He raised his eyebrows. "Ok," he said slowly. "First of all, he was late this morning. Then he threatened to put Sargent Wilkins on report for his hair being too long. Then, he sparred with Teal'c and landed a couple of punches, and if my source is right, he went to General Hammond and asked the man for a mission, any mission." Daniel checked his watch. "And it's only noon."

"That doesn't sound too horrible to me."

"Sam—"

"Daniel, so he's not the cheeriest person in the world at the moment. It happens. I seem to recall you doing your Pig Pen imitation a time or two."

"Yeah, and there are about three days a month when being around you qualifies us for hazardous duty pay." He ignored her dark look. "But this is different."

"Daniel—"

"Sam, something is really bothering him," he said seriously.

She sighed, turning her head to watch Jack in the food line. He bypassed the hot food and dug through the wrapped sandwiches in the cooler, picking up some and tossing them back down, ignoring the scowling looks from one of the cooks. Finally, he abandoned his tray and stalked out of the room. "Ok," she relented. "I'll go talk to him."

"Are you sure?"

She shrugged, getting to her feet. "There's one thing the colonel will never do…"

"What's that?"

"Hit a girl," she said with a rueful grin. She left the room, dropping her tray off to be returned to the kitchen. Gambling that Jack would sulk in private, she made her way to his office. Rounding the corner, she saw that the door was open and she sighed, her bravado fading. It certainly looked like his mood hadn't improved any after he'd left the house this morning.

Realistically, she knew she should have expected it. Jack wasn't the kind of man to forget something like this so easily, nor was he the kind of man to dream about asking for any sort of help.

Of course, even though the personnel of the SGC were well used to his bad moods, she also knew if he kept it up for too long, General Hammond would lose his legendary patience and Jack would be forced to deal with things in a far more public manner than he wanted.

Pasting a smile on her face, she resumed her trek, striding purposefully into his office. He glanced up at her, then turned his attention back to the paperwork he had laid out on his desk. "You know, you're starting to frighten the children," she said lightly, sitting down across from him.

He ignored her, continuing to read the paper. She knew what it was, a simple memo about one of the elevators being shut down for service. It was something she knew he wouldn't even bother reading normally.

"Jack," she said softly, pitching her voice so that it couldn't be heard through the open door. "It's not that big of a deal." He looked up at her, the expression on his face one that would scare recruits and a few Jaffa. "It happens." He looked back down, flipping the memo over to pull out another one. "Jack…" She fought the urge to reach across the desk and touch his hand. She was just as aware of the camera in the corner as he was. It didn't have an audio pick-up, but it did record images. And she needed to project the image of a perfect second in command, and seconds in command didn't hold their CO's hands.

"Was there anything else…Major?" he asked coldly.

She stared at him, taken aback by his words and tone. Yes, they'd both agreed to keep their behavior more than above board while at work and they'd done the same away from the SGC as well, rarely going out in public unless they had Daniel or Teal'c along to chaperone. "Yes sir, COLONEL," she said accentuating the title as she got to her feet. She leaned over the desk, her voice barely above a whisper. "If you happen to see my boyfriend, tell him if he brings this attitude home tonight the only bed he'll be sleeping in is the one attached to his truck."

She spun on her heel and left his office, keeping her pace slow and measured, knowing the last thing the rumor mill needed was to see her running or looking in the slightest way upset.

She couldn't pretend to understand how he felt, and she knew it had to have been traumatic for him, but it also wasn't the end of the world. And she'd tell him that…if she didn't kill him first.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Jack watched her go, staring at the empty door for a few seconds before sighing. He closed his eyes, abandoning the memos he really hadn't been reading anyway. She was right, he was being an ass.

He just…she didn't understand. Yes, she said she did, in fact, she'd been rather adult about the whole thing. There'd been no jokes, no off-color remarks, no goofy grins, just simple understanding. She hadn't even gone overboard with trying to fix it.

In some ways, that just made it worse. He hadn't been in the mood for understanding, he'd have preferred her to be upset or mad or put off. That way it would have been much easier for him to vent his own frustrations without feeling like a total prick.

Snorting at his own choice of words, he leaned back in his chair, his mind wandering.  It could have just been a one time thing, or maybe not. The problem was, there was one easy way to find out…and he stood a fifty-fifty chance of finding out the wrong answer.

In the field, fifty-fifty was good odds, but not here and not now. Six months ago, it wouldn't have mattered as much. He'd have just gone on with his life and let it work itself out. Of course, six months ago, he probably never would have noticed that there was a problem.

A thought occurred to him and he sat up straight in the chair. Fred Miller. He'd driven by his office just last week. He could call Fred, have a little chat, maybe get some answers.

Feeling his bad mood slip away, Jack pulled the phone book out of his drawer and flipped through the pages, quickly finding Fred's number.

Snatching the phone off its cradle, he dialed, suddenly grateful that George hadn't found something for them to do.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Headlights washed across the kitchen window and Sam sighed, recognizing the sound of Jack's truck as it pulled into the car port behind her house. This was going to be fun, she thought, taking another sip of her wine.

She hoped he'd taken her warning seriously, she really didn't want to deal with a bad mood at the moment. A little fact that sort of alarmed her. Every relationship was made up of give and take, a fact she knew despite her stellar lack of luck on the relationship front. And she'd thought that she and Jack were doing a good job.

After seven years of living in each other's pockets on and off world, she thought she had a good handle on him, and vice versa. She knew his quirks, just like he knew hers. And she'd thought that would give them a bit of an advantage.

Unfortunatly, nothing they'd experienced over the past few years had prepared her for what had happened last night.

The backdoor slammed and she looked up, refusing to get up from her seat on the couch. He walked past her into the front hall and she heard him open up the closet. He walked into the livingroom and sat beside her. "I'm sorry," he said softly.

She nodded, accepting his apology. "You feel better now?" He shrugged. She leaned forward, setting her glass of wine down on the coffeetable. "Jack, I know this is difficult but…part of the couple thing is sharing…"

"I know," he said softly.

"Jack—"

"Look, this was the…first time and—"

"Really?"

"What, you'd think I'd lie?"

"No, I…It makes sense why you were so freaked out and—"

"I wasn't freaked out."

"You stormed out of the bedroom and spent the night on the couch," she reminded.

He sighed. "Yeah, ok, so I guess it did freak me out…a little." She raised her eyebrows. "Look, I want…can we just pretend the last twenty four hours didn't happen?" he asked.

She looked at him for a few seconds, then closed her eyes, opening them to meet his gaze. "It can't be like this. You can't just storm off, throw a fit and come back like nothing ever happened," she said.

"I know."

"You'd kick my ass if I did it."

"I know," he said, his voice more strident. "Look, Sam." He reached forward and took her hand. "I said I was sorry. And yeah, I know I can be an ass, but I'm not gonna change overnight. And I don't expect you to either."

She squeezed his hand. "So aah, you want to pick things up where we left off, huh?" He nodded. She leaned forward, her free hand sliding into his lap. "What if we have a repeat?"

"We won't," he said, his free hand sliding up to caress her cheek. He lowered his head. His lips met hers and he leaned back, pulling her after him. He released her hand, his own sliding up her back, finding the edge of her t-shirt and stroking her skin. Feeling him stir under her caresses, she smiled, giggling into his mouth. "Told ya," he crowed.

"Smartass," she muttered, deepening her kiss.

"What do you say we take this show on the road?" he suggested.

"Mmhm?"

"You got a great couch, but I prefer the bed," he said, pulling his head back.

"Traditionalist," she teased.

"Hussy," he said, his insult tempered with his hand slowly caressing her back. "Have pity on an old man."

She slapped his ass playfully. "Ok, gramps." She leaned back and got to her feet, pulling him up. "Let's go then."

She led him back to the bedroom, releasing his hand to turn around, crooking her finger cocquetishly. He smiled and followed her lead, confidently walking forward. She reached down and grabbed the hem of her shirt, pulling it over her head. He grinned at the sight of her bare breasts and she wiggled them a bit. "You like what you see?" she asked playfully.

"Ya sure ya betcha," he crooned.

"I hope you plan to do more than look."

"I think I can manage that," he said, pulling off his shirt and tossing it behind him.

"Come prove it to me, flyboy."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Sam rolled over, her hand automatically sliding over to the other side of the bed. Finding nothing but cool sheets, she frowned, opening her eyes. "Jack," she said softly, listening for him. She heard nothing from the bathroom and laid there for a few minutes.

Finally realizing that he wasn't coming back to bed, she sat up, looking around the room. Pushing the covers back, she climbed out of the bed and reached for her robe, pulling it around her. She padded out of the bedroom, a lamp shining in the living room giving her a clue. "Jack?" she called softly. "What's wrong?"

He was sitting on the couch, not relaxed as she'd expect, but slightly hunched over, his shoulders tense. "Jack?" She sat beside him, scanning him from head to toe. His robe was hanging open and she could see an ice pack in his lap. "Jack, what's wrong?" He shook his head. "Jack?"

"It aah, it…" He removed the ice pack, revealing his erection. "I seem to have the opposite problem of last night," he said ironically.

"Oh," she said, feeling herself flush despite the fact that this was far from the first time she'd seen him naked. "Well, I can…Just let me…" She reached out, prepared to take him in her hand.

"No," he said sharply, making her pull back her hand, a shocked look on her face. "I already tried that," he said sheepishly.

She looked at him, then at the clock on the VCR. "03—Jack, how long have…" He looked at her. "When did you get up—aah…"

"Three hours ago," he said, grimacing. "Damn."

"What?"

"Last time I got kicked in the nuts it hurt less," he groaned, his head falling back against the sofa.

She stared at him, feeling totally hopeless. She knew he had to be in a lot of pain for him to admit it in any way. And she also knew that he was not going to like what she was about to suggest next. "What if, aah, what if…"

"What?"

"I think we need to call someone," she said quietly.

"Sam—"

"Jack, you can't go on like this."

"No shit, Dick Tracey," he said, rolling his eyes. "I can see it now; 'Good morning, General. No, sir, I'm not that glad to see you.'"

"Jack."

"Am I supposed to just walk into the emergency room like this?"

"I doubt it's been the first time," she said, losing her patience. "You know." She pitched her voice different, cocking her head to the side. "I could be wrong, but I seem to recall hearing that, well you know, it could fall off or something."

"What?"

"There was this guy once, totally smashed out of his gourd. He passed out and laid there in such a way that the blood was cut off from his hand…they had to cut it off."

"The blood's not cut off," he said, pointing at his lap.

"Obviously not. But it's not circulating either. Little Jack down there might be asphyxiating even as we speak," she said.

He looked down, frowning fiercely for a few seconds then his shoulders slumped and he slouched back against the back of the couch. "Fine. Call Fraiser."

"Jack?"

"I'll do whatever Fraiser says," he insisted.

"Ok," she nodded. "I'll be right back."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"That should take care of things, sir," Janet said, withdrawing the needle and capping it. She dropped the syringe into a bright red biohazard bag and sealed it for safekeeping until she could get it to the mountain to be destroyed.

"That's much better," he said softly, leaning back against the headboard, his hands reflexively pulling the sheet up to cover himself.

Janet gently pulled it away, using a cottonball soaked in alcohol to wipe away a few drops of blood. "It should stop bleeding in a minute. I'd put a bandaid on but—"

He shot her a look. "I understand."

"Keep an eye open for any signs of infection. And I'd like you to go see a urologist."

He shook his head. "That's ok."

"Colonel, this could be a symptom of something very serious and it's not something that you should ignore. I'd need to do some research but—"

"Don't bother," he said softly.

"Sir?"

He sighed, pushing back the covers and swinging his legs off the bed. Pulling the robe closed he left the bedroom and went out into the livingroom. Sam immediately got to her feet, her concern fading a bit as she got a good look at his face.

He motioned for her to stay where she was and he made his way to the hall closet. He opened it and reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a small packet, quickly shoving it into the pocket of his robe.

He returned to the bedroom, meeting Janet in the hall. He pulled the packet out of his pocket and tossed it at her. "I think that's the culprit," he confessed, sitting down on the bed.

She looked at the pills, her eyes growing wide. "Colonel—"

"The other night," he interrupted. "Umm, there aah, there was…equipment failure," he said, his face flushing with humiliation.

"Where did you get these?"

"A friend of mine is a doc. He did me a favor, gave me a sample."

"Colonel, these aren't aspirin," she chastised, holding up the packet of blue pills. "And they're no miracle cure. In fact, they can be rather dangerous…as you just found out."

"Ya think?"

"Sir, why didn't you come to me?" she asked, her face showing her hurt feelings.

"And have the whole SGC know?"

"I would NEVER—"

"Not  you," he interrupted. "But someone would read the chart, and they'd have to go tell their friends and before you know it, the whole mountain would have known that—" he broke off, editing himself.

"Believe it or not, sir, not everything I treat makes it into the charts," she said softly, clearly offended. "No one would have had to know." She tossed the packet of pills at him. They missed and landed on the bed. "Now unless there's another mess of yours you'd like me to clean up, I think I might go home and get, oh half an hour's sleep before I have to get up and get to work."

He shook his head, sensing that anything he said wasn't going to go over well. She quickly gathered her stuff. "You should refrain from sexual activity for at least forty-eight hours," she advised, reaching for her coat. "If you don't trust me, you can call your friend." She spun on her heel and stalked out of the room, her shoulders set and her head held high.

Jack heard her exchange a few words with Sam then the front door opening. He sighed, flopping back on the bed, his legs dangling over the edge. He heard Sam making her way down the hall and he brought up his arm, laying it across his eyes. The bed sank as she sat beside him. "Jack?" She laid her hand on his chest. "You ok?"

"Yeah."

She shifted position and he heard her pick up the discarded packet of pills. "You took these?" she asked, her voice rising an octave.

"Yeah."

"Jack, why?"

He opened his eyes, looking at her. "You remember why."

"So you had a little problem."

"Little?"

"One time. Once. Out of all the times we've made love, it's failed once. I'd say that's pretty good odds."

"What if it was just the first of many?" he shot back, propping himself up on his elbows.

"If sex was all I wanted, I would have gone fishing with you years ago," she said, raising her voice and crossing her arms over her chest.

He stared at her, his eyes growing wide. "Really?"

"Really." She smiled.

"Wow. I aah, I never…"

"I mean, the sex part is certainly a plus, but—" he reached up, wrapping his hand around the back of her neck and pulling her down. Her lips met his as the fingers of one hand splayed across his chest, threading their way through the sparse hair there.

After a few seconds, she used that same hand as leverage, pushing herself up. "We can't do this."

"Yes, we—"

"No," she insisted. "If Janet has to come back out here, she will kill us."

He stared at her for a few seconds, then groaned, slumping back onto the bed. "You're right."

"Ya think?" She scooted towards the head of the bed, sliding her feet under the covers. "How about getting some sleep."

He got up, crawling into bed beside her. She moved over, snuggling into his side. He turned off the light and felt her relax against him. "You better hit the florist on the way in," she mumbled.

"Why?"

"I think you owe Janet at least a dozen roses."

"A dozen?" She raised her head and he could feel her glare. "Maybe two," he agreed.

Fin


End file.
